


jesus take the wheel (from bucky's hands)

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: the sass and murder show [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Stucky - Freeform, roadtrip part II, this was a horrible idea Sam, who let bucky drive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An angry man in a red Honda flips Bucky the bird as he passes but Bucky only glances and turns his eyes back to the road, calm as can be.</p><p>[road trip part II]</p>
            </blockquote>





	jesus take the wheel (from bucky's hands)

Bucky is a terrible driver and letting him behind the wheel is the worst decision Sam has ever made. Okay so not _that_ bad but it's in the top 10 right under taking his homely cousin to prom because her date cancelled at the last minute. He'd take vomit on his tux and a clingy relative over Bucky's swerving any day.

The way back home is a long ass drive filled with surly super soldiers and insomnia induced confessions.

An absolute blast.

+

"Hey Buck, remember your first kiss?"

Bucky nearly rear-ends a soccer mom in a white van and Sam tightens his seat belt. If he manages to make it to New York in one piece he swears he's gonna kiss the grimy rodent disease carrying asphalt. That's a big _if._

Bucky throws up his hands dramatically and groans. "Why, Steve? Why?"

That bad huh.

"Let me guess, her name was Lucille and you didn't find what you were looking for under her skirts."

Oops, did he say that out loud? Nausea and the stifling constrains of the Volkswagen are making his tongue loose, filter broken beyond repair.

Bucky gapes and nearly misses the green light. A driver angrily honks behind them in an obnoxiously massive Hummer which brings Bucky out of his stupor. The massive hunk of metal could roll right over them without even trying.

"Um," Steve begins.

Bucky starts laughing so hard that he's wheezing and probably it wasn't a good idea to make him laugh when he's behind the wheel. Not that Sam had intended on that. He'd been dead serious. The boy is gay as a two dollar bill and there ain't a thing wrong with that but it _is_ a valid reason for hating a first kiss/date with the wrong gender.

"Come on man, it ain't that funny," Sam says as Bucky attempts to pass an SUV, now quietly chuckling to himself. 

Jesus take the wheel from this man's hands before he gets them all killed.

Sam adjusts the rear view mirror and gets a view of Steve with the widest grin. Two years with the man before this bag of bolts came slinking back and not once had he saw that particular smile. Hmpt. _He_ can make a person happy. He's a good friend, Clint said so. Unless he was lying. He _is_ Clint, after all. Might have to break out the wings when they get back.

Steve stretches an arm along the backseat, still smiling. "Except it is."

Bucky makes a turn and clears his throat.

"Not that it matters but her name was Ruby...what was her last name, Steve?"

Steve pipes up without even having to think about it. He probably remembers the score of every baseball game he's ever been to as well as the price of a bag of sugar in 1942. An elephant never forgets and Steve? He's an oversized elephant with big doe eyes and a knack for trivial information.

"Elizabeth. She had two first names."

An angry man in a red Honda flips Bucky the bird as he passes but Bucky only glances and turns his eyes back to the road, calm as can be.

How?

The man has a temper like the jolly green hulk and yet no road rage?

"Yeah that was it. Anyways we never made it that far, for the record. She sent me to the hospital."

That gets Sam's attention.

"She _what_ now?"

Steve picks up where Bucky left off. "We were twelve and she rushed right into it, chipped his tooth. I saw the whole thing and had to explain to his ma why we were both bloody."

Naturally. They'd been making racket even without meaning to.

"How'd you get to the hospital?"

Bucky people watches as he waits for the light to turn green and a little boy with ginger hair and freckles sticks out a tongue at him. He raises his hand to wave because that kid reminds him of Steve when they were young enough to pick fights but old enough to know better. The child's eyes grow wide and he begins to shake his fathers shoulder and point toward Bucky, excitedly.

Strange.

Oh. He'd forgotten that his hand wasn't covered in a glove and hadn't been for days. After nagging his father, the man finally turns. Bucky wiggles his fingers at the bewildered man. 

Yes, yes. It's me. Lethal winter soldier creeping along in a Volkswagen with one salty oversized man in the passenger seat and an overly amused blonde in the back.

Just as the man rushes to roll down his window (they're driving a beater of a vehicle as well, solidarity) the light changes. Always nice to meet a fan.

"We walked," Steve states matter-of-factly as if two young boys walking many blocks to the hospital while leaving a bloody trail in their wake wasn't a big deal. If Sam had tried that he'd get the worst tongue lashing of his life. 'Course he  _would've_ it to the hospital after but not on foot. That's just insane.

" _You_ walked." Bucky pauses and huffs. "Four miles. _FOUR_." 

"Don't start," Steve warns.

Traffic begins to slow as there's a small wreck ahead and honestly. Seriously. What did Sam do in a past life to have such bad luck? Murder the pope? Set fire to a baseball field? He must've did something crazy to have ended up here with every wrench thrown in the _I need to get home and feed my cat_ plan.

They're now at a stand still and here comes the dramatics.

"He tried to carry me, y'know with his whole body. Lemme tell you, this guy was about 92lbs soaking wet and failed most of his classes 'cause he got sick so often. Wasn't the best candidate for heavy lifting. So anyway here I'm standing there with blood dripping down my chin (she got me on the gums too) a chip on this tooth," Bucky pauses to expose a tooth that looks uneven and makes Sam uncomfortable. He does _not_ need to see the inside of Bucky's mouth. Not now, not ever. He'll gladly leave that job for Steve.

Bucky eases onto the gas pedal which moves them a whopping 5 inches before hitting the brake.

"-and he's wrapped around me like a snake and we fell a few times on the way there. I kept telling him," Bucky continues.

"-you could handle yourself. Buck is a liar. He was stumbling around like a drunkard and it wasn't even the worst thing that's happened to him. _That_ honor belongs to 1932 when he severed a tendon," Steve finishes.

Sam cringes.

Car horns blare as the line refuses to budge.

"I got there, didn't I?"

"Only cause I-"

Jesus Christ they're long winded. They drag stories out together like two old men in rocking chairs spinning tales of the good 'ol days when a dozen eggs cost .18¢. If they're trying to push Sam to insanity, they're succeeding at it.

He cuts in with a distraction.

"See that bumper sticker?," he asks.

There's a brand new shiny red, white and blue bumper sticker with a tell-tell red star dead center nearby. It's proudly displayed on a mini Cooper with the words _"Will brake for Barnes-Rogers"._ By all means, sidetrack this joyous trip back home. That's exactly what they need.

Sam feels the need to throw a cap and sunglasses on them. If only he had a pair.

He side-eyes Bucky. He'd tossed them in the trash along with a pile of fast food wrappers and receipts three days into the trip. 

There's no way that wasn't on purpose. It must've been payback for the last stick of gum that Sam popped in his mouth seconds after Bucky asked for it.

Steve leans forward in his seat and sandwiches his head between Sam and Bucky's.

"Wow. Last time I saw our names on a bumper sticker it didn't end well but I really like this one. We should get one."

That had been a fun year. In between searching for the worlds worst driver (possibly the reigning champion of that title since the '30s) and laying low, the world had turned cold and ugly. Bucky's face was on every newspaper, on forums where people picked him apart, late night psychic shows that claimed to communicate with his spirit if he was no longer living. Most of the time his name was met with anger on behalf of Captain America.

The bumper stickers were brutal then and Bucky will forever remain as the enemy to some but for the most part life has gotten easier.

They inch forward once more.

Bucky squints at it then relaxes in his seat. Without the wound up tension that Sam had witnessed first hand from the Winter soldier, he could almost pass for a normal person. Almost. And by that, of course, Sam means that normalcy wouldn't include a shady serum and a metallic arm. That's the shit of science fiction movies but then again, _he_ flies around like a bird ( _bird?_ he's got to get away from Bucky) on the regular.

"We'd have to get a car first, Steve."

Steve's forehead creases as he thinks. Knowing Steve he's probably mentally mapping out locations of the best car lots and the most effective way of getting there. Having reached some sort of confirmation with himself, he speaks.

"We could."

No.

No.

No.

Neither one of them should own or operate a vehicle.

"That's the dumbest idea I've heard on this entire trip."

Bucky's arms cross against his chest possibly in an attempt to muster up some of the winter soldiers demeanor. It only makes him look like a royal guardsman for the queens military.

"What."

Sam blinks. "Man you almost got us ran off the road three times and that's only in the past two hours. They ain't gonna give you a drivers license."

Bucky is taken aback by the implication. "Wasn't my fault." 

"You were trying to pass a dually pick-up truck even though the speedometer can't even hit 80mph."

The line begins to roll along faster now but not by much.

"I didn't like the way that man looked at me," Bucky states. 

Here we go.

"How?," Steve questions. His features immediately harden into Captain America's signature scowl.

Shit's getting too real and Sam isn't in the mood to play therapist though (not to toot his own horn or anything but) he _is_ the best at it. Still, it's rare that either of them treat him as such. To them he's Steve Rogers friend and Bucky Barnes frenemy. Both are titles he wears proudly. He is more than the help he provides.

Bucky's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Like I'm a monster. He recognized me."

The vehicle moves forward just far enough to get Sam's hopes up then promptly crushes them by stopping.

"It's the hair," he offers. Biggest understatement of the century. His past is scattered all over the internet due to Natasha's file dump a few years ago and he will always be judged by it. 

Bucky considers this then shakes his head.

"No it's not."

In the rear view mirror the bitterness in Steve's eyes fade and soften with renewed pain. If he starts crying Sam will straight up fling himself out the window. Everyone knows crying is contagious and road trips are supposed to be fun.

"We're gonna be okay, Buck."

Always with the _we's_. They're disgustingly in love and Sam hates them for it.

Bucky nods then pointedly avoids eye contact. He chooses to return to people watching.

Looks like they have a fourth passenger now: guilt. Nice. 

Sam breaches the silence. "Jacklyn."

Steve leans forward. Perhaps he'd drifted off in the middle of an important discussion and missed a conversation. Bucky loosens his grip on the wheel.

"Who?," he asks.

So it has came to this: dishing out personal memories in order to break Mr. Rogers neighborhood in the backseat out of his funk.

"First girl I kissed. Jacklyn. She dumped me after and told everyone at school that I was a bad kisser. Never heard the end of that."

Steve sits up straight in his seat and Sam can practically see the pissed off 95lb asthmatic in him.

"I don't like bullies. I don't care where they came from," he states.

Bucky can't take this. Too many damn feelings and not enough air. Too many reminders. They should stick to the topic of Sam's terrible lip service.

"Were you?"

Sam scrunches his forehead up. The man is so vague and very good at not restating questions to the point that he's confusing.

"What?"

The traffic picks up speed until they're breezing past an elderly woman who's hunched over the steering wheel and probably shouldn't be on the road either.

"Were you a good kisser?"

Nosy fucker.

"How am _I_ supposed to know that?," Sam replies.

He can't exactly kiss himself now can he. 

Bucky shrugs and smugly counters with "That bad, huh?"

Note to self: research wide coffins. Overnight shipping.

"Couldn't have been as bad as yours," he taunts. At least he's not missing a piece of tooth.

"Bucky was my first kiss," Steve blurts out. He doesn't care for feeling invisible and Sam has already witnessed the second sexiest moment in his life so why not.

That really throws Sam for a loop. Color him surprised and dumbfounded.

He presses a hand to his heart, scandalized. " _Our_ Steve? I, for one, am speechless." 

Steve grins, voice laced with sarcasm. "Knew you would be."

Yep. 

Bucky merges into the next lane and prattles on about how he hasn't forgotten what it felt like.

Well no. It's kinda hard to when you spend your days kissing those exact lips.

Sam closes his eyes and pushes his seat back further.

+

"Hey, you done with that?"

Bucky leans across the table and is preparing to spear Sam's last waffle with its remaining fresh strawberries and whipped topping.

Not today, Fingers. He takes a jab at them.

"This ain't the great depression, man. You don't steal a man's waffles."

It's 4pm and they've made steady progress but there are many miles (and arguments) to go yet.

Bucky eyes the plate in front of him with its overcooked eggs and soggy toast then cuts back to Sam's waffle. It makes his mouth water.

Can't take this man anywhere. Sam scoots the plate across the table and crosses his arms. He watches as Bucky swirls a slice of waffle into the whipped cream. He makes it look like art. How the fuck does he do that? Maybe Hydra wanted their assassins to seduce via any available method. God Sam needs a date. 

"I don't know where you get your facts from but waffles were a luxury back then," Bucky says, mid chew.

Steve nods in agreement as he steals a bite from Bucky's plate. 

"Man you had a sad childhood. My dad used to make a mean batch of homemade chocolate chip waffles."

What a shame. Bucky gives him a 'well, what can you do about it' look then returns to his food.  The two of them polish off the waffle in under two minutes.

"Ever had poor man's spam?," Bucky questions.

Sounds vile.

"Never have and don't intend to."

"We should make that when we're back home," Steve suggests.

They both turn toward Sam from their shared booth. Apparently sitting on opposite sides is absurd. 

"You should come over for dinner."

And eat salted canned meat mixed with whatever they found in the cabinets? What an irresistible offer. He's thisclose to offering to come by with pizza but they've both turned on him with exaggerated puppy dog eyes.

"I'll think about it."

Steve smiles crookedly then nabs a small pile of napkins from an empty table. He waits until their waitress stops to ask if they'd like a refill for their mugs and requests a pen.

Is he going to write down the recipe? He probably remembers every single measurement. Sam does not want that, nope. As far as he's concerned Spam can stay right where it's at in the grocery store.

Bucky watches as black ink takes on the shape of a human face.

Steve Rogers sketching in a diner that's older than Sam after gushing about a great depression recipe; what decade are they in again?

Sam watches the lines meld into something - no. _Someone_ familiar.

It isn't long before Steve is putting the finishing touches on his sketch. He begins to shade in an eye just as the waitress stops at their table with a pot of steaming coffee. She glances from the sketch to Bucky's face.

"You're very talented. Looks just like him."

Steve is the epitome of every cheesy main man in circa 1940's black and white movies. Since Bucky's inevitable return and that night by the fire hes became more human somehow.

Steve's cheeks pink as he meets her eyes. "I'm a little rusty."

Our valiant superhero has been a blushing schoolboy all along. That's weird as hell.

 +

And so it goes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too enthusiastic about this sequel but its been sitting in the drafts so I thought I'd go ahead and post it


End file.
